Anderson sheriff has 'high hopes' for inmate AA meetings

Herbie Kaesmann listens as an Anderson County Detention Center inmate speaks at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting at the facility.

A trustee at the Anderson County Detention Center reads over the Twelve Steps of Recovery document at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting at the detention center.

Harold Holland speaks to a trustee at the Anderson County Detention Center before leading an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting at the facility.

ANDERSON COUNTY - Editor's note: Inmates' names have been changed to protect their identity.

At the staff locker room deep in the maze of halls connecting the various blocks of the Anderson County Detention Center, five alcoholics filed in Wednesday night.

The five men, who are of varying ages, sat down around a plastic dinner table without saying a word other than their greetings to the two other alcoholics in street clothes who waited for them.

The inmates' body language showed they felt a level of insecurity about being there. Most sat with their heads down, staring at the table, their arms crossed.

Finally, one of the inmates, a man in his 40s with a well-trimmed mustache and trendy eyeglasses said, "Hi, I'm Tom. I'm an alcoholic."

"This is my first meeting," he added.

In fact, the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting Wednesday for male inmates was just the second that has taken place inside the Anderson County Detention Center in at least 15 years, according to detention center director Garry Bryant.

A weekly meeting for female inmates held each Monday night started three weeks ago. It is the first AA meeting for women in the jail's history, Bryant said.

Slowly the inmates relaxed as Tom led them in a moment of silence followed by the serenity prayer and the Alcoholics Anonymous 12 Steps of Recovery. Heads came up to make eye contact and arms unfolded, left to rest on the table top.

Herb Kaesmann, one of the men in street clothes, listened as several of the men told their stories, always beginning with their acknowledgement that they, too, are alcoholics.

Kaesmann, a 79-year-old who said he has been sober for 44 years, told the group his own story.

"I've been sober since 1966," he said.

A trained pharmacist who was a medical corpsman for the Navy in the Korean War, Kaesmann returned from the war, he said, to work in his father's chain of pharmacies in Bridgeport, Conn.

"It took my dad and my grandfather 60 years to build the business," he said. "I lost them all to alcohol in six years. I am the classic case of a family going from shirtsleeves-to-shirtsleeves in three generations."

Kaesmann told the inmates how he lived in his family beach house after his wife had thrown him out of the house.

"To eat, I'd pick the mussels from the rocks and boil them in sea water," he said. "All because I couldn't face reality. Instead, I turned to drinking."

Kaesmann, who lives in Anderson, recently started the AA meetings in the detention center together with another recovering alcoholic, a woman who asked not to be identified.

Recently, the two talked about why they approached the Anderson County Sheriff's Office about conducting the meetings in the jail.

"We asked several addiction support groups in town to allow us in for a weekly meeting," Kaesmann said. "No one was open to it. We'd always hear, 'We don't have a drinking problem.'"

For about two years, Kaesmann said, door after door closed, until one day they met with Bryant.

"Capt. Garry Bryant has been wonderful," he said. "It's just the right time and the right place."

Bryant said opening doors for the program was logical.

"Many of the inmates coming to jail are here for alcohol or alcohol-related charges," he said. "We have some who have been incarcerated in our facility over 50 times on minor charges."

He said offering a service that might help inmates overcome addiction "will be a benefit to the already stretched resources of our office."

Offering the program to inmates, Bryant said, sends a positive message to them.

"We are here for more than just their incarceration," he said. "We want them to leave here ready to by productive individuals in the community. For every person the AA program reaches, there could be generations affected."

Bryant said space in the 53-year-old jail limits the number of inmates who can attend the voluntary meetings.

"Modern jails have classroom space attached to housing units where religious services, medical services and programs like AA can be offered," he said. "But the majority of our facility does not only have limited space, it has no space to offer any programs"

After three weeks of AA meetings for female inmates being offered in the jail's lone multipurpose room, more than two-thirds of the female inmate population is attending, Kaesmann said.

"We hardly have enough room in there," he said.

Despite the space limitations, Kaesmann said the possibilities are endless for many of the inmates he said lack even basic literacy skills.

"We have teachers who are recovering alcoholics, doctors, lawyers. … Why couldn't they work with inmates who can't even read while they work through the program with them?" he asked.

And, although working inside the jail brings AA counselors into contact with convicted felons, Kaesmann said working with them is no different than working with those on the outside who struggle with drug or alcohol addiction.

"The inmates are some of the most respectful people I've ever met, and no matter what the situation, I've seen it, done it, been there," he said. "It's always the same story. Only now, they're getting younger and more suicidal."

Anderson County Sheriff John Skipper said the weekly meetings come at no cost to the county and hopes are high for positive outcomes.

"In my entire career, I've always thought any way law enforcement could help alleviate our offender population, it's always a good thing because a lot of the people who commit crime are on alcohol or drugs," he said. "Anytime we can help them get back to being productive citizens is a good thing for the community."

Kaesmann said even the detention center guards have been excited about the meetings.

"The guards always thank us," he said. "They are respectful and professional, and they always say, 'Please don't stop.' They recognize addiction is a vicious cycle."

Wednesday night, that cycle was exhibited in the story of Bobby, a trustee who is in the 11th year of a 20-year prison sentence.

"I saw my Pops drinking when I was a boy," he told the group. "So I thought it was OK. As a result, from the age of about 12 until I was 40, I was a straight fool, running wild."

He was 40 when he "caught his 20" for robbing banks along the eastern seaboard, he said.

He was introduced to AA by a fellow inmate who was attending meetings at a state penitentiary, he said.

"I've been sober since 1999, when I went to the pen," he said. "There's never an easy day. I get no visitors here. I lost my Mom and my Pops since I been locked up. But I've learned I don't gotta be who I was when I was drinking."

Bobby told the group he's learned that the AA program "works if you work it."

"I'm free," he said. "I may be in here, but I'm free. Today I'm clean, and I feel good about that."